


Dangerous Love

by niveuos



Category: Eyewitness (US TV)
Genre: Bittersweet, Falling In Love, Love, M/M, and lukas waldenbeck, and what it means to be in love, but not in the way i know we all want, internalised homophobia bc we all know bby lukas is struggling, lots of talk about sucking cock, mentions of drug abuse and overdose, philip thinks about love, written after 1x04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 15:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8496346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niveuos/pseuds/niveuos
Summary: Philip Shea should have known that love would be a haunting, dangerous thing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> so earlier today i literally wrote on my profile that i wasn't going to write eyewitness fan fiction until i had more foundation for the characters but then i remembered im 100% philkas trash and produced this. i hope u love it and it was saddish to write but like this fandom is still small and needs more fan fiction so here i am, hoping im supplying at least some of the goods.

Love, to Philip, consisted of soft smiles from his mother gazed over the tops of teacups and dirty kisses in clubs he was too young to occupy, lost in the taste of alcohol on his lips and hard thrusting against his thighs. Love was a cock in his throat in bathrooms and alleyways, a wad of bills shoved into his back pocket when he was done, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The kisses he could tolerate; they were nice, in their own way, reminding him of who he was and what he enjoyed, that the city was a place he could let go, where nobody had to know he was seventeen with a drug addicted mother. The cock sucking, well... That was something else. Every time the thick head brushed past his lips he forced down the bile in his throat, remembering the money, remembering how much he needed it and how easy it was for him to get it this way. The whole ordeal was disgusting, because as much as he really loved dicks he didn't like feeling forced to take them, suck them so willingly with men he didn't love.

There was that word again, love. He didn't feel loved when men smirked at him across the bar, pushing him to his knees behind closed doors with a hissed, " _I'm not gay, boy, but your lips are like a filthy sin_ ," and he woke up ashamed and alone all over again, but that was the only love he knew. Sometimes, when his mother was having a good day, they'd play Go Fish with an old pack of cards, and it wasn't really all that eventful when only two people sat at the table but Philip appreciated it more than words could ever express, and his love was at its strongest then.

Love was complicated, and sometimes scary. Philip liked to imagine that when he eventually fell in love the proper way, it would release some kind of self discovery inside of him, like all his doors would open and nothing would be hard to understand anymore.

Then social services came, and Philip was taken away from the only love he had ever known.

It was shocking, at first. To be trapped in a small town, no clubs to taste alcohol on other boys' lips, no places for him to drop to his knees for cash. It was almost nice, to not have to suck cocks for money anymore, but a piece of him deep inside missed it. He missed the level of intimacy it brought, the availability, because now there weren't even any cocks to suck. Philip was pretty sure he was the only gay boy in this entire town and that was terrifying, in its own way.

He grew used to the way people stared, until they stopped staring and the novelty of a new kid wore off. Soon, Philip came to realise how easy it would be to fall in love with somebody here; in the city, he was perpetually surrounded by unfamiliar faces and he never saw the same person twice. Never kissed the same lips, traced the same chest with his teeth. Out here, in the country, he was suffocated by familiar faces and nobody new, leaving him to hope to God he didn't let himself get too attached to anyone here because he knew, deep down, that he belonged where the city was.

Lukas Waldenbeck approached him first. It was innocent in itself, asking about his camera and his interests, and he felt compelled to agree with anything Lukas said because he hadn't quite made a friend yet in this place. He knew Lukas was cool in a high school way, which was why he shouldn't have been surprised when Lukas ignored him the next day. Philip knew it was best not to approach him in the halls, because everyone had secrets to keep and God, if Philip didn't know what that was like. Flashes of needles and a lifeless body flashed before his eyes; people didn't need to know that here, not yet, preferably not ever.

And yet, Lukas would text him on the off chance, and meet up with him where others couldn't see. Philip filmed him for his YouTube channel and laughed at everything he said and he knew, holding onto these little moments, that Lukas was dangerous. When every time he saw the blonde boy holding hands with that girl called Rose, his heart broke a little bit. How every unsent text made his stomach flutter.

_Who am I to you?_

_Why do I feel this way?_

_Do you think about me, too?_

_What is love, Lukas? How will I ever be able to understand love?_

Deleted, backspaced, a sigh escaping his lips. Despite them having been sort-of-maybe-friends for weeks, Lukas still didn't tell Philip much of anything. He let out garbled motorbike speak that Philip didn't understand, and sometimes mentioned how Rose wanted him to wait and he didn't care all that much. Sometimes he mentioned his dad, or what he had to do at home, but he was quiet and reserved, and Philip was always left wondering what was on his mind.

That was part of the attraction, he guessed. He wanted to take Lukas apart, piece by piece, and love every hidden corner of him.

Then there was the cabin and the only drink and the kiss and Philip pretty much decided he was fucked. _I'm not gay like you._ Those words cut so very deeply into him, and Lukas was standing there twisting the knife and he didn't even know it. But Philip knew how to hide how he felt, knew how to lie, how to look down at his feet and pretend he was just an innocent, lonely teenager. He'd done that enough times after coming home and leaving cash on the table, telling his mother it was from helping someone move apartments or working a shift at a convenience store several blocks over. She believed all of it, and Philip almost felt guilty, most of the time.

Nowadays, all he really thought about was Lukas. And fuck, he never would have guessed how love could hurt this much. The proper kind of love, not from family or misguided kisses, but with a boy he held tightly to on the back of a motorcycle and dreamt of whispering softly to in his sleep. There were the dreams about sex, too, of course; he had a lot of those, waking up sweaty and sticky, Lukas' name still hot on his tongue. But other times, when he caught himself gazing longingly at Lukas across the hall or in the courtyard, looking away as quickly as he could, he found he was thinking about walking right over and holding his hand. Pressing his cheek into his back, wrapping arms around his middle, kissing the back of his neck, feeling the body in front of him shiver. He imagined going on dates where everyone could see, being disgustingly cute and feeding him across the table with a spoon, giggling at every little thing he said because he was in love and he damn well knew it, too.

But Lukas wasn't the right sort of person to love, Philip figured. He could be manipulative without meaning to be. He would hit Philip in the corridor, only after warning him to get out of there but Philip wouldn't listen because he just wanted to be with Lukas a little longer. He wanted a girlfriend he wasn't into, and a boyfriend he didn't want to tell anyone about. Philip was drowning in his own sentiments but he found he didn't really want to resurface if it meant giving Lukas up.

That was the most painful thing about love. Philip didn't have a say in the matter. There Lukas was, afraid and alone and full of internalised hatred and the way he reacted to Philip's touch was mesmerising, the ways he showed his affection without saying the words out loud were addictive. _I fixed your flat tire_. A blush, rising to his cheeks when Philip lightly touched his thigh. _Get under the bed!_ He tried to disregard the triple homicide from his memory, how much they were keeping to themselves, as long as Lukas kept touching him like this, holding him like this, giving him a different kind of love, one Philip had never experienced before. _Because you know I like you._

_I like you._

_I like you._

And as those words echoed in his head, he forgot about any other type of love he'd ever experienced in his life. The safe love of his mother. The routine love of nameless men in the streets.

There was only this, a dangerous love, a reckless, haunting, desperate love that shook his bones and caused his lips to tremble, right before he connected them with the mouth of somebody else, tenderly, and sometimes, like this, nothing else mattered


End file.
